Of Fangirling Waitresses and Fallen Angels
by xxRoroxx
Summary: 'Just a video game nerd...living in a Halo wo-rld. I took the 61 bus goin' Wammy's House... doo doo doo.' I sang, fantastically in tune of course, spreading my joy throughout the orphana- 'Hey, Matt. Shut the hell up.'
1. One Steampunk Cybergeek Coming Up

_Wammy'__s House, Matt and Mello both 14._

_Well, I had a poll on my page, asking 'Should I write a multi-chapter Wammy's house?' No-one voted no, and I'm sure you will live to regret it. But here is the promised fanfic. Oh, and it's a slight AU – Mello doesn't leave Wammy's until he's 18. Enjoy, please review, and I'm taking requests. _

A small auburn-haired boy lay on the sofa with a pink Game Boy color. He'd just arrived; and his parents had only died two days ago. He didn't appear to be affected by it, but Roger was used to this – it didn't sink in for about a week. Then you got the stereotypical 'I want my mummy!' tantrums, then the silent grief. So used to this, in fact, that he turned on his heel and left the orphaned boy alone in the common room.

Matt watched Mario jump hyperactively into a tube, and wished he too could do the same. He didn't notice the old man exiting the room, but he sure as hell noticed the troupe of about five boys entering. He glanced up at them. They were about twelve or thirteen, but they were tall and looked strong. They noticed him looking at them and he quickly looked back down, but it was too late. The one who was apparently the head strided over to him, with the rest of his gang following. He tore the console out of Matt's hands and threw it to the ground. Matt emitted a near-silent groan, but it was loud enough to allow the boys to imitate it and laugh. "So, faggy-boy," said the boss, a brunette who could have been beautiful but was too twisted for it to come through, "When did you get here?" Matt stayed resolutely silent, certain that anything he said would be ridiculed. "I said, _when did you get here?_" Still no answer. "Answer me, you_ bastard_!"

"T-t-today," Matt stuttered.

"T-t-today!" the brown-haired boy mimicked. This was met with a round of hysterical laughter. Matt didn't know why, it wasn't _that_ funny. "T-t-to-f*cking-day? Well, you haven't made a very good start, faggy-boy, have you? And I think you should be punished for that. Don't you agree with me?" It did appear that, _yes_, his gang did agree.

"Well, good luck with that." replied Matt calmly, picking up his game from the floor and trying to prevent himself from shivering. He touched the console but the screen was completely mangled.

"Ah, what do you think you're doing with that, faggy-boy? We haven't finished with you yet…" With that, two boys grabbed Matt by the feet and arms and pushed him into a cupboard. They locked the door, and began tipping it around. Inside, Matt's eyes were squeezed shut and a single tear began to drip down his button nose. He'd never been a fan of small dark places, but ever since he narrowly avoided being _locked in a bloody safe and being thrown into the ocean by a mental murderer_ he disliked them even more. But all of a sudden – it stopped. And one, honey-swept voice began to talk.

"Now, now, little boys, what do you think you're doing?"

"N-n-nothing, Mello, w-we were just…playing… that's all… I p-p-promise…"

"And are you going to p-p-pick up a f*cking p-p-penguin too? Speak _properly_, retard."

"I'm s-s-sorry, M-" Before the kid, who sounded like the brunette had finished his sentence, he was cut of in a series of chokes and gasps. From what Matt could deduce, he was being held up against a wall, presumably by his throat.

"Haven't I told you _before_, little boy, _never_ do this again. Right?" The boy had apparently nodded. "F*cking _NEVER!_" A gross crunching noise was made, and it sounded like a limb was broken. "_NEVER!" _It appeared that the boy had been dropped to the floor, and the gang scattered. Matt heard delicate light footsteps pick their way to the cupboard and unlock it. He fell out in a way which Jabba the Hutt would've been ashamed of, right onto this Mello's feet. Matt looked up, and _gaped._ Of all the things to do, to bloody _gape_. He was certain, for a moment, that this was all a hallucination and that he had fallen unconscious whilst in that hellish cupboard. But not even his wildest dreams could have thought up this. For standing there, a halo of blond hair around a perfectly formed oval face, was surely an angel? He had azure eyes, eyes like a storm in the middle of a summer day. His eyelashes were thick and dark. His lips had a perfect cupid's bow. His _hair_… yellow-blond and cut in a pageboy bob. It was shiny, soft, and beautiful. But if you looked further, onto his skin tight black long-sleeve shirt, you could see dark red blood splatters. A fallen angel, then.

And this angel, this boy, this Mello, held out a hand to him, and said: "Hey, beautiful. Want to come to dinner some time?"

And that is how, today, I came to be here. Frantically wondering what the difference between smart-casual and casual-smart was. Attempting to zip up my fly with trembling hands. And confirming to myself that I was actually bi. Because, y'know, it'd be kind of embarrassing to… go out on a date with a guy, then he kisses me, and it feels all wrong etcetera, etcetera. I'd never get a girlfriend that way. But it seems that the story of Mello's heroics has spread round the school already, and I'm now looked upon as the adorable puppy who thinks the light shines out of Mello's every orifice. Heh-heh. But no. And so there I'm never going to get a girlfriend/boyfriend.

I mean, I do already have a fan-club with about twenty odd followers (out of the twenty-two people at Wammy's, it was pretty impressive), but it'd be a little odd to have a date who screamed 'MOE! KAWAII MATTIE-CHAN!' like the creepy anime obsessed stalkers that they are. And I do have standards. IE the smexiliciously hot blond who I'm meeting in an hour.

(Okay, I'm definitely bi.)

_An hour later…_

I'm in the restaurant. God, I hope he's paying. It looks like the kind of snazzy European place where when you order, practising your French, the waiter corrects your pronunciation with a twiddle of a gay-ish moustache.

I ask if there's a reservation for a Mello. Nope. A Matt? No can-do. Is there any justice in the world?

_Ten minutes later…_

Ten. F*cking. Minutes. That, my friends, is how late my new date Mello was. No, doesn't seem that much to all you boys and girls at home. But when you're sitting on your own at a table for two, and the candle keeps flickering and the waitresses keep giving you knowing glances and winking, it seems like _quite a long f*cking time._ I was all ready to leave, but when he walked in, I was so bloody glad I didn't. He looked absolutely amazing; black skinnies, a white shirt and faux-crocodile skin black boots. Yum. But he was looking straight at me. Like, _straight, _straight at me.

I looked over my shoulder back to the waitresses. One appeared to be crying, whilst the rest were new recruits to the Matt fan club. You could practically see the hearts in their eyes. I felt underdressed and exposed, even though I'd swapped my jeans for some new ones and my shirt for a black one with a red tie.

Oh shit, that's what he's looking at, he's looking at my goggles and thinking, 'oh God, I've asked out some steam-punk cyber geek with some gay streak who gets beaten up a lot and I'd better run away before he tries to exterminate me.' I had absolutely convinced myself that _that_ was what he was thinking, when he came over to my (our) table and sat down with the smile of the super-cool.

He squeezed my hand (_squeezed my hand! On the first bloody date!! stfu, inner Matt) _and said, no lie:

"You look sexy tonight, Matt."

…

SQUEE!

_My first attempt at a vaguely humorous story ¬¬ please review and tell me what you think! I'll try and update this regularly as I genuinely enjoy writing as a gay slightly fangirling Matt ^^_


	2. My God, These Pillows Are Freaking Sweet

_And once again, I demonstrate my shitty ability to update stories. I hope I will eventually finish this though :D__ reviews = love. If you review lots, I'll give you a cameo in this ^_^_

Deep breaths, Matt. Deep, deep breaths. Okay, leave out the deep part, just concentrate on freaking breathing.

Oh shit. Whilst I'd been hyperventilating, Mello'd been looking at me with an adorably bemused expression. Whilst the adorable part wasn't too bad, I'm sure most guys don't have to physically stop themselves from fainting when their date sits down. Not that I'd know, what with my past experience.

"Um… hey." I said. If I had to have been an emoticon then, I would so've been '*w*'.

"So. How old are you?" he said by way of a reply.

"I'm…' do I lie do I lie do I lie? 'Four…uh, forty. Forteen.'

He smirked. Was that good?

"Me too. When d'you arrive?"

"The day you…the day you, uh, you know."

"The day I rescued you, like the handsome prince saving the beautiful princess… and they lived happily after…"

Throughout this, his face had got steadily closer and closer. God, he really reminded me of someone. I looked down out of politeness, and by the time I looked back up he couldn't have been more than a centimetre away from me.

"TAMAKI!" I yelled right in his face out of shock. "Tamaki out of Ouran… Um. You sort of remind me of him. Yeah."

He recoiled slightly with the force of my verbal punch, then moved back in.

"Matt… you are _adorable_."

And with that I lost consciousness.

_26__ minutes later…_

I awoke with chicken and mushroom soup all over my face, hair, and upper body. According to my (admittedly not very good) logic, I'd either been date-raped, and Mello had _really_ weird fetishes, or I'd fainted and slumped into my starter.

If asked to choose which the worst option was, I genuinely don't know.

The full force of what I'd done was suddenly flung upon me. I'd f*cking _fainted_. In front of a hot guy. And I didn't know where said hot guy was. Or where the hell I was, in fact.

Speaking of which, I actually took in my surroundings. I was in a bedroom. Someone had carried me and put me on the bed.

The bed had pillows.

This person had freaking sweet pillows.

I basked in the pillows for a while. Then looked at the décor of the room. I'm bi, what'd you think I was gonna do?

It was decorated in a dark red, with hints of black and the focal point was a large piece of artwork, which appeared to be a lot of guns with smiley faces painted on. As I registered the door on the far side of the room, it opened to reveal the guy I'd been on a date with around half an hour previously.

"Matt. Hey. How're you doing?" he grinned.

"Um…good, thanks. Where the hell am I?"

"My room… in Wammy's… didn't you realise it was exactly the same shape and size as yours?" God, he was even cute when he was being dorky.

"Uh, no. Sorry?" Something slowly registered in my brain. "You know what my room looks like? How?" he'd never even seen my room – or knew where it was – or what number door it was.

"Well, I had to go in to get you these." he threw me a vest, a pair of pants and some jogging bottoms. I decided to just grab the pyjamas and not question the rest.

"Thanks." why did he bring these in here? "Why did you bring me in here and not in my room? Not to sound rude or anything." STOP ASS-KISSING MATT!

"Aren't you staying over?"

-insert hyperventilating here-

"Um, sure." My heart skipped several beats. There was one bed – and two of us… and then he unfolded a sofa bed.

"I'll sleep here, you can have my bed." he said with a Margaret-Thatcher-melting smile.

"Cheers. Don't look for a sec, I'm changing." Inner-gay-Matt: LOOK LOOK LOOK LOOK LOOOOOOK!

To my inner-self's disappointment, he looked away perfectly chastely. Bloody Catholic.

_3 minutes later…_

All tucked up in bed.

"Hey, Matt?" came a husky voice from the darkness.

"Yeah?"

"Wanna play Truth or Dare?"

"Sure. You ask me first. I say truth."

"Okay…" you could tell by his voice this was going to be a very, very embarrassing night. "Would you rather… kiss me, or kiss Megan Fox?"

How the hell did he know about my secret love for Megan Fox??

"Um…" I mumbled. Mello chuckled evilly at my discomfort. "Mmph."

"Who? Just say it already. I promise I won't laugh."

"Well, I guess I'd have to say you…"

Let's just say he broke his promise. Like, mega-broke his promise. In fact, at one point I thought he was having an epi.

"My turn now – Mello; truth or dare?" I mumbled out.

"Dare. All the freaking way."

"Right. I dare you to… steal one of Near's toys."

I saw a flicker of light and a gust of wind came over me as he exited the room in a flash. Within around twenty seconds, he was back.

"Okay. I choose dare."

"Matt…I dare you to kiss me."

_Duh-duh-duh!!!_

_Cliffhanger…kinda…and no, this will not be rude._


	3. Life's More Like Twilight Than I Thought

_**HAI GUYZ iz ttly me 'gains.**_

_**Sorry about the last short chapter, this one will be a little longer (: thanks for reading, reviewing, and once again, if you review regularly, I'll give you a cameo ;) /review whoring - and inner-gay-Matt appears, just for you, Mr. Reviewer ^^**_

DOT. DOT. DOT.

You could have cut the air with a spork. Tension sparked through the air like... uh... y'know. Sparky things. Moving on.

_To recap: 'I dare you... to kiss me.' said Mello, his long dark eyelashes fluttering in my direction. 'No... make that... make out with me.'_

_He moved one long slender hand to my cheek and -_

No. No fantasies here, Inner-Gay-Matt.

But yup. That got the general gist of it across. Ahem.

"Uh… pardon?" I stuttered out.

"You know, it's pretty damn easy…take your mouth, put it on mine, inject some saliva and move your lips," he elaborated. "Wait… oh God. (_and here, readers, he is truly taken aback. He's a Catholic. Work it out.) _Are you... is this your first time?"

"Kind of?"

A pause. A pause so terrible I considered suicide.

"Well, I guess this is up to me." he got up and moved to my bed. He lay next to me, and slowly moved his angel's face closer and closer to me. His long dark eyelashes fluttered in my direction. He moved one long slender hand to my cheek (hm…so this is what déjà vu feels like…) and kissed me as softly as a fragile old woman. I'm really not painting a sexy image here, am I? But anyway, it rocked. He kissed me again, down the side of my neck and then… omigawd… on my lips. He went to go back to his bed, but I seized his arm and pulled him back. I lay down with him in a tender hug… and lost in the moment I said the most mentally retarded thing I had ever said in my life.

"I…love you."

Immediately, Mello jerked away from my skinny arms pumping with adrenaline. He got up, and without a word retreated to his sofa.

OHSHIT.

I slept fitfully and dreamt of horrific things… every Sim in Pleasantville dying of a horrific flu virus (okay, I had read _The Stand_ the other day…), a fire destroying every console I own (God forbid)… Mello turning away from me.

When I awoke with a start, Mello was not on the sofa.

Mello was not in the bathroom.

Mello was not in the canteen.

In fact, Mello was not in Wammy's.

When I returned, holding back tears, to my room, there was a carefully folded note on my pillow. Mello's meticulous handwriting read simply:

_I have left to think._

_ Mello._

As I held the last piece of Mello I had in my hand, I finally let out the tears that I feared would have drowned my eyes.

For the next seven days, I felt like I was in a dream. People gave me a wide berth in the corridors, like despair was catching. Every day I came into class there would be a seat right at the back, seemingly saved for me – or maybe it was because I had sat there once, and no-one wanted to go anywhere near where _Matt _had been. Every evening I cursed myself for saying those three simple words. Every night, I sobbed myself into dreamless, or worse, nightmare-filled sleep.

On the eighth day, I had given up all hope of ever seeing my blond beauty ever again. I sat in a trance at the back of class, tensed for when I knew his name would be called in the register, and there would be that horrific, screaming silence. However, when "Mello, 9S?" was called, some stupid prankster decided to answer. "Finally, Mello. And take that darn hood down."

The voice came from an all-black figure in the second to front row. When his elegant fingers reached up to take the hood off, strands of honey blond hair were exposed.

And for the second time in my life, I fainted.

"Matt…hey. You need to stop doing this, it's gayer than Edward Cullen."

I shut my eyes again, and opened them. Because there was no way in hell Mello was here, he would never be here.

"Yup, I'm here." said Mello. Was he a mind reader? He was the bloody Edward Cullen, not me. "You, me, at six." And with that, Mello left me.

_Six._

I sat at the table we first met at. God, I sound like Bella Swan. Just as I was about to get my phone out my bag, a beautiful black haired girl walked over to me. I recognised her from my last date, she was the waitress that had been crying… I never noticed how lovely her eyes were, pure raven black. She looked a little like L – not that I got to see much of him. I was so busy pondering the last time I'd seen L, that until I felt her warm breath ruffle my hair I didn't realise she was sitting right next to me. She'd pulled up a chair and was sitting very…suggestively, may I say. She leant dangerously close to my ear and whispered, "my name's Felicity… what's yours?"

"Uh… Matt. W-why?" curse my gayness when talking to cute girls!

"Because I want to know…so where's that hot boyfriend of yours?"

"He's coming…um…so are you coming to – take, uh, take my order? Because I don't think I'm ready yet." She put a delicate finger on my lips.

"Are you fre-" she began to sigh in my ear but was swiftly stopped when she was flung on the floor.

"The F*CK do you think you're doing, whore?" screamed Mello.

"I…I…" here, she ran away.

"Anyway," Mello continued, not missing a beat, "I have to tell you something, Matt. I know we're not supposed to talk about our past lives at Wammy's, but seeing as it's just about the only rule I haven't broken, and God knows you deserve it… here goes. When I was a kid, my parents were in gangs. Like, big gangs. Mafia big. They'd never be in, they'd leave me on my own with knives and guns and drugs and f*ck knows what else. I hated them, but I had a grandma, and an auntie. They were like the only light in my life, and I loved them so, so much. They, you know, were the only two people who had ever said I love you to me, at that age anyway. Soon enough, they both got blown to smithereens by an opposing gang. I never quite forgave my parents for that.

"When I was six, I came to Wammy's. When I was thirteen I got my first boyfriend, almost as soon as I worked out I was gay. He said that he loved me, when we were on our eighth date, and the very next night he got stabbed to death for no reason at all. Those three were the only people who have ever said that they love me, and those three people all died.

"At first, I figured it was God telling me to stay out of relationships, to never get too close to anyone for some reason, any reason. And when you said that you… loved me… it hurt me more than anything - I thought for sure that you'd die too. I guess I thought, if I ran away, it might save you. But I realised, if God didn't want me to be with anyone – with you – then He can't be a very good God. So I came back.

"And there's something I have to tell you Matt… I love you."

I guess life is more like Twilight than I thought.


End file.
